Shadow
by SlenderXLover
Summary: What happens when the one you're supposed to fear, to despise, becomes your only haven? What if you become nothing but a shadow, and he's the only one who can make you feel whole again?
1. Chapter 1

I don't know why, but I never did seem to believe the saying that good things come to those who wait.

For ten years, I've waited, but nothing ever did come to me that was _good_. All I got was a large scar and a missing organ.

Fun.

I was never quite positive what his name was, but he was tall- much, much taller than I was-, he seemed to have no eyes, although I couldn't be sure, because I have never seen him in broad daylight, and he seemed to know a little too much about the body, where to cut, how to cauterize wounds…. He knew more than I knew, which is saying something, since I'm a surgeon with an M.D. serving quite reluctantly in my father's place at a hospital in New York.

Every night, I would go through the exact same thing; eat a frozen dinner, watch the television, go into my room, take a shower, dry my hair, brush my teeth and hair, read for a while and go to sleep. Lately though, I've noticed something strange…

It seemed as though it was paranoia for living in one of the most high crime states, but I've never had this foreboding sense of danger. I just went through my nightly routine, though and finally drifted off to sleep.

It was strange, though. I was gracing the brink of consciousness when I realized that there was something cutting into my side.

It was a _scalpel_.

I jumped up and screamed, but he quickly yanked me back down, securing my hands with rope before resuming. He then took out one of my organs- I couldn't see from how dark it was- and began sewing me back up. I blocked out most of the pain, but it was so painful! I gasped a couple of times, but I don't really think that he cared too much.

Eventually, the bastard just left, leaving me wondering just what on Earth I did to deserve having a bloody organ removed. I don't want to live here any more. I'm not even sure if I want to keep living.

* * *

"Are you able to talk?" I asked him tentatively, watching as he cringed, not realizing that I was awake. Slowly, he turned his head, his pitch-black eyes seeming to stare into my very soul.

"I am. I don't, though." He murmured, making me raise an eyebrow. His voice was… husky, almost. It sounded like a voice you'd expect from a sexy serial killer, not this weirdo.

"If you don't talk, why'd you just do it?" I questioned, able to tell that he was getting annoyed. Shrugging his shoulders, he seemed to glare at me before leaving.

What was his problem? Was it something that I said? If it is, he needs to learn to stop wearing his heart on his sleeve.

"So… I was wondering. What's your name?" I asked him, raising my right eyebrow and staring at him. Then, I noticed that his eyes… they seemed to have blackish fluid leaking from them. Not in any kind of a gushing way, but enough that I could see some of it dripping onto my bed, making me shiver in revulsion.

"Nothing. You may call me Eyeless Jack." He rasped, turning his entire body away from me. It seemed that he was afraid of showing me any more of his face, although I've already seen him before, so I didn't find any problem with him letting me see what he looked like, but whatever made him happy.

"Eyeless Jack? Who in their right mind would call anyone that?" I asked incredulously, causing him to glare(?) at me.

"Be silent, little girl. I have no wish to listen to your pathetic whining. I have work to do." He growled at me before turning around and disappearing into the darkness.

The night dragged on until, finally, the sun began to rise. Good morning.

* * *

I shivered, and clutched my jacket to myself tighter, watching my breath come out in little puffs.

I was walking home from my college, and it was so, so very _cold_, and these men came out of nowhere and tried to- to touch me. I was so scared, but I knew that I couldn't let it get to my head, because if I did, they'd kill me. They grabbed me, they hurt me, touched me, and it made me _sick_. I screamed, and tried to get away from them, but they were just so, so strong. Then, _he_ stepped out from the shadows and grabbed two of them, smashing their heads together while I stumbled back and tried to stay back as far as possible.

He stepped in front of the last three and took his scalpel out, swiping it across two of the guy's throats and then spinning around to kill the guy. I watched in shocked horror as he wiped off his scalpel of blood and began walking towards me.

I scrambled to get far away from him, for he was dangerous as I had just witnessed him brutally murder five men- although they did deserve it.

I was afraid of what just may happen to me. If he could hurt those guys without batting an eyelash, what could he do to me? Was he going to kill me? He already did take out an organ from me. I hope that I didn't die, but if I did, I really hope that I didn't suffer like so many of his victims probably did.

However, he refused to stop coming closer and even closer to me, so I scooted back further and further until I found myself trapped against the brick wall and this-this thing.

"Don't! Get away from me, don't hurt me!" I cried out, shying away from him as much as possible. Slowly, as if not to frighten me, he gently placed his hand against my face and cautiously picked me up, carrying my body back home.

"I'm not going to harm you just yet." He said, and I could feel his voice rumbling inside of his chest. I shivered and sank in closer to him. It was a chilly winter night, and he was warm. I don't like him, though. I can't allow myself to gain the vulnerability that the emotion offers opposed to remaining alone.

However, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was finally more than what I used to be.

I was finally more than a shadow.


	2. Chapter 2

He was so close to me. I could almost touch him. I kind of wanted to reach out and touch him, but I don't think that I really trust him enough for that. He's kind of an enigma, really.

I wonder at times like these how he could possible see, but I never get the courage to just _ask_ him! No, that would be symbolical to signing my death warrant. Perhaps, though, if I got close enough to him, he would tell me about himself. I was still afraid of him, and I could bet that he could sense it, for it wasn't difficult to do so.

I just didn't understand why I happened to feel this way about him. It's just that… he's not usually my first choice of a partner. He is terrifying, to say the least; however, for some reason, I am unable to keep myself sheltered from the almost unbearable pull that attracts me to him. It was nearly futile to struggle against the waves crashing against the thin threads that held my sanity together.

I was splitting at the seams.

I suppose all those years of leaving my mind untouched and unchallenged was a foolish mistake, for now my brain was functioning too much, and I don't know how I can stop it.

I sigh, what's wrong with me?

Jack looks at me. He seems to be curious for some reason. I think he may have heard me sigh. I can feel him rustle beside me and scoot a bit closer to me. I really don't want him anywhere near me, because it's dangerous for someone- something- like him to be so close to a fucked up idiot such as me.

"Is there something wrong?" He asks me. He feels so warm… I can feel the waves of heat emanating off of him. I'm so cold…. Maybe I could just….

No.

No.

No.

Bad.

Bad.

Bad.

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid.

I am a fool. He would never permit such personal displays of any sort of affection. In fact, I'm pretty sure he's planning 50 ways to kill me with the glass of water he's holding right now.

"N-no. Nothing. There's nothing wrong," I failed to say without completely messing up the idea that I wasn't afraid of him, or anxious around him. He obviously knew that I didn't feel comfortable with him. Maybe that's why I just couldn't manage to convince him that there was truly nothing wrong.

If only I had a reason to lie when I was younger… Then I'd be able to lie to this- this thing without a problem.

"I know that you're lying to me, child," his voice was harsh. I suspected that he didn't like it when people lied to him.

"I don't wish to talk about this right now," I tell him, scooting away from him, only to have him scoot closer to me. So, I scooted further away, only to have the process repeated.

Eventually, there wasn't enough room to keep scooting away from him, so I just turned away from him, and promptly ignored him. He didn't take that too well, either.

Jack grabbed me by the arms and tangled his fingers in my hair, pulling my head back. I winced (it really, really hurt) and slowly raised my eyes to meet the gaping, black holes seemingly staring back at me. I shivered a bit and very carefully moved his hands away from me. He noticed, though, and pulled me towards him. He truly scared me more than anything.

* * *

I sometimes wish that I could go back to the mundane life I used to exist in, but then, it's times like these when I think that I must have been crazy.

Right now, I was sitting next to Jack, he was petting my hair, and although I felt like a dog, I still refused to admit that it felt goo-

Somehow, Jack had a place with a television that worked, as well as a DVD player. He had a thing for horror movies, which is why I'm suffering through a round of the Grudge series. Next, it was the Saw movies. I had a feeling I'd be sitting here for a while.

But… it was _fun_ in a twisted way.

Just sitting here, without a care in the world, and watching movies as though he wasn't a psycho, and I wasn't a person he'd taken into the middle of nowhere and kept as if I were an object.

Now, it was as if everything in the world was okay. It was as thought we were all living in perfect harmony. It was nice, almost. I really liked it….

I knew the happiness would have to end, as it always would, but for now, I was content to simply stay here in Jack's arms and lie here happily.

For now, I was okay with pretending that this thing hadn't ruined my world.

In a way… he sort of saved my life somehow.

* * *

Stockholm Syndrome. They said that it was one of the most difficult psychiatric issues to deal with. They said that the victim felt as though their kidnapper was doing them a kindness by letting them live, but with Jack, he really was doing me a kindness by keeping me alive.

Does that mean that I have issues, though? What does it mean? I'm a surgeon, not a psychologist, though I have dabbled a bit in the area.

I don't think that I have Stockholm Syndrome. It just doesn't make sense. I don't care for Jack the way a Stockholm Syndrome person would. I feel as though he cares for me to some extent, though.

I sighed.

I don't know what to think anymore.

I'm sick of thinking. I just want to lie down someplace quiet and sleep forever and ever…

and ever.

And hopefully, no one will ever wake me up.

They all made it out to seem as though Sleeping Beauty had it bad when she fell into her eternal slumber. I doubt that she had any problem with it.

After all, she would have been able to escape the stress and pressure being a princess put on her, and everything would be okay for her.

I wish I could sleep forever.

I don't want a prince having to fight to wake me up.

I want to be that Sleeping Beauty.


End file.
